Banshee-Pup
by NikoleStilinski24
Summary: Day 6 of Stetopher Week. Oct. 29th 2018-Werewolves What happens when a baby is left on Peter's door step with a note from a dead woman and has to call in reinforcements in the form of a broody werewolf and a spaz of a hunter? Tags: Hunter Stiles, Spark Peter, Werewolf Chris, De-aged Peter, De-aged Chris, Established Stiles/Chris, Kid fic, Lydia/Boyd, (Lydia is dead), Non-canon


The yip of a wolf howl woke up the teenage spark. Peter kicked his legs out of bed, feeling the power in his body grow due to the full moon.

He broadened his sense's to find no trouble within or around his home. So he ran down the stairs hearing the yipped cries grow stronger, louder. Retching the front door open to find a wicker basket and a pink bundle.

Peter opened a corner of the pink silk blanket to reveal a letter and a full head of black curls.

First he brought the baby girl within the basket in to his home. Second he walked to the kitchen setting her down atop the kitchen table and making sure she was facing him. He peeled some more of the blanket away to see her face so that he could start cooing at her. He emitted a soothing aura around her until she settled down.

As she calmed down Peter said out loud "Should we see if this explains where your family might be or at least gives us your beautiful name sweet pea?" he made a face at her to make her happy, automatically getting a feeling from his spark that it was working, but seeing it by her smiling just confirmed that he was doing something right.

He opened the letter accidentally slicing his finger causing him to be drawn into a vision of sorts of what must be the baby's parents.

Peter watched as a dark skinned man and a fair skinned woman with red hair who looked a few years older than him ran in the woods. It was obvious that they were running from something or someone. The woman was carrying the basket that now was right in front of him in his kitchen. Until an arrow pierced through her leg, making her drop to the ground, another shot through her shoulder, causing her to drop the basket the rest of the way down.

"Boyd!" she yelled.

The man turned around sharply to see his mate, his eyes glowing gold.

"Lydia!" He ran back to her pushing his legs to go faster.

"Take her!" The woman, Lydia, said pushing the basket with her one good hand into her mates outstretched arms. "Peter…"

"I know. I love you." Boyd cried out kissing the top of her head softly before taking the basket.

"I love you too. Forev…" Lydia started to say before all of a sudden she yelled so loudly that her mate had to cover his ears and her baby started to cry and she took her last breath.

The vision ended with no explanation as to what happened to Boyd, but the baby in front of Peter was proof enough that they accomplished bringing her to him but didn't tell of anything else.

Peter found he had tears in his eyes, that hadn't yet fallen. As he finally opening the letter he saw fancy writing, that was oddly addressed to him.

 _Dearest Peter Stilinski,_

 _Your spark powers are well known in the banshee and werewolf community. My werewolf mate and I had been in the Oregon pack until hunters started hunting us down one by one, we are the only ones left. We have come seeking sanction for our daughter, our Braeden. Please protect her until her father Vernon comes to you._

 _Yours Lydia Martin-Boyd_

At this Peter's tears were finally released falling down his face.

He placed the letter back in the envelope, noticing that the baby girl, Braeden, had fallen asleep. He pulled out a chair to watch her and to make sure that she was safe and happy asleep. As he was watching Braeden he started to fall asleep in the chair.

A few hours had passed when once again Peter was awoken to Braeden crying awake. At a closer look Peter had realized that she had shifted into a little were-pup during her crying fit. And that meant one thing, he would have to call Christopher Hale werewolf extraordinaire.

Peter dialed the number for Chris but who answered was his hyperactive spaz of a boyfriend Stiles Argent who was an ex hunter for the prestigious Argent's of France's werewolf hunters.

Unfortunately the irony was lost on the lovesick fools.

"Peter?" Stiles asked.

"Sorry." Peter shook his head. "I need your help." Braeden started to howl more.

"Is that a werewolf?"

"A werewolf baby actually, and what I need your help with." Peter heard noise in the background until he heard Chris speak. "We will be over soon, Stilinski."

Peter hung up the phone looking down at Braeden.

"What's wrong sweetheart?" Peter asked.

He heard her stomach growl and felt through his spark that her diaper needed changed. Then he felt dread at the thought of having to change a dirty diaper. That is when another thought came to him; he didn't have anything like a bottle or diapers laying around so what the hell was he to do? At that moment he felt the familiar tingle of recognition through his spark that told him that Chris and Stiles must have shown up and parked by his beloved jeep.

Peter came back to the task at hand and went to grab a blanket from the linen closet on the back wall between the kitchen and laundry room, swinging by the laundry room to gather a washcloth, a towel, and an old ratty t-shirt of his, all while holding Braeden in his arms.

Five minutes later Peter was yelling out for Stiles and Chris to come in while tying the last two pieces of the makeshift t-shirt diaper.

"Hey, so where is this baby?" Chris cooed in a baby voice that only mother's usually could really pull off. Peter noticed that Stiles rolled his eyes in a "really Chris?" way.

"This adorable pup is Braeden Martin-Boyd, or so it says here in this letter." Peter handed it out to the other two men, Stiles quick to grab it.

Peter watched as Chris moved around him to be by the baby.

"Hello Braeden, it is very nice to mee- OH!" Chris cooed out exclaiming at the end. Peter saw that when Chris spoke Breaden's eyes turned gold making Chris's eyes flash red right back.

Chris spoke "I can make some phone calls." He continued after Stiles had read the letter out loud. "I know of a few packs between here and Oregon, and here and Mexico that might have seen or by chance know where her daddy is." He finished and picked up Braeden, rocking her.

Peter made a makeshift bottle out of a maple leaf and a touch of his spark magic. He handed it to Chris watching how Stiles went over and started to sing lullabies and how Braeden slowly relaxed and fell asleep.

If Peter was an outsider looking in he would swear that the four of them looked like a small tight-knit pack. Family.

Five months later brought in one Vernon Martin-Boyd into their weird but functional pack. He had been staying with a pack in Nevada recovering after extensive wounds from Chinese ring-daggers. Finally being well enough to travel he came looking for Peter and his baby and found the trio. Peter, Stiles and Chris now knew that the baby had developed the banshee yell, just like her mother.


End file.
